The Chatsfield Short Romances 1-5. Marguerite KayeЧитать онлайн книгу.
Five
When Salim woke he was aware of a sense of panic even as his hand went out and found the bed beside him empty. The fact that this was a wholly new sensation after sleeping with a lover was not welcome.
He opened his eyes. She was gone. Not there. The panic rose higher. Merde. He felt weakened by the incredible sex, unable to gather his strength to move for a second.
He closed his eyes as a memory assailed him—the tight sheath of Nat’s body clamping around his, drawing the longest most intense climax he’d ever experienced out of him.
They’d lain there for a long moment, stunned by the depth of their release. And then Salim had extricated himself and dealt with the protection. When he’d come back, Nat had been curled up on her side, asleep, and he’d wrapped himself around her as if it was the most normal thing in the world. When it was anything but.
Cursing again, he got up, that panic intensifying. He prowled into the living area and his heart stopped and started again when he saw the terrace doors open to the balcony outside and a slim robed figure looking out over the view as the first pink light of dawn broke over London.
Not liking the sense of relief that gripped him, Salim went over and knew she heard him when he saw her tense minutely. He came up behind her and put his hands on the stone balcony on top of hers. Something deep in his soul was soothed, and instantly Salim told himself that that was ridiculous, it was just sex. Incredible sex.
‘I’ve always loved this time of the day.’
Salim’s libido reacted forcibly to the roughness of Nat’s voice. Rough because she’d been begging, pleading—he brutally cut off the memories and focused on the view. Birds soaring high against the skyline, free. And for the first time in years, Salim had a sense of something lifting off his shoulders. A dark weight.
He reached his arms around Nat and pulled her back against him. She fit him perfectly. Already he was hardening against her and he knew she felt it when her bottom moved against him.
‘I love it too,’ he heard himself saying. And he realised he did. The dawn had always seemed to him to hold the potential that perhaps the day ahead might not end in carnage and horror, and even if it did, the dawn never got tainted for him. As if some part of him refused to be dragged down completely.
Nat turned in his arms then and he saw her eyes flare when she realised he was naked. He caged her in, loving how she felt pressed against him, the way her head tipped back, those golden green eyes surveying him with such seriousness and yet with a hint of mischief and humour.
She bit her lip for a second and then she said huskily, ‘I don’t even know you. This is…’
Salim put a finger to her mouth, stopping her words. He took it away and looked at her and felt something break apart inside him.
‘I know,’ he just said, filled with a sudden incredible melancholy. Because she was right, even though she hadn’t said it, he knew what she would say…that this was crazy. They lived on opposite sides of the world. It was one night…they’d never see each other again.
As if reading his mind and absorbing that sadness, a small sob escaped Nat’s mouth and he saw a sheen in her eyes. When she stretched up to touch her mouth to his, a desperation infused their movements, desperate to reclaim what they’d just shared, desperate to make it last, even just a while longer.
* * *
When Salim woke again he knew the spell was broken. It was bright outside and he could hear the low constant hum of traffic. The bed beside him was empty. She was gone. Had she ever even existed or had he conjured her up out of a pathetic fantasy he’d never even realised he had? The desolation that ripped through him made him suck in a breath.
Salim sat on the edge of the bed and was about to walk to the shower when he spotted the small card on the bedside table.
He sat down again, heavily. Her card. She was real. Natalja Jordan. Dark blonde hair, huge golden eyes. A mouth made for sin and kissing and…when he thought of how she’d pressed kisses all over his body just a short time before…a mouth made for healing.
There was nothing written on it except her name and that she was a photographer and her website details. He turned it over and saw a mobile number written in pen on the back. His heart beat unsteadily. He imagined her then, getting on a plane, flying back to New York, getting submerged in her own world, forgetting about this night. About him.
Galvanised by something almost primal, Salim picked up the hotel phone and punched in the numbers. Almost angry now at the thought that she’d just left. After a second to connect, he heard a ring tone, and then he heard the distinct sound of a mobile phone ringing in the suite.
He put the phone down. The ringing stopped. Feeling dazed, and with his chest getting tight, Salim stood up and haphazardly pulled on his trousers, leaving them open.
He walked to the door of the bedroom and everything seemed to stop. Nat was standing there, hair tousled, in her gold dress. Bare feet. Holding her phone.
* * *
Nat took in Salim standing in the doorway. He looked shell-shocked. Her heart stuttered, shell-shocked because she was still here and he didn’t want her to be?
She found her voice. ‘I meant to leave. I was leaving…my flight…but then I got to the door, and I just…couldn’t.’
She shrugged her shoulder minutely feeling self-conscious. ‘I’ve missed my flight now. And I thought…I wondered if maybe you had some free time today, if you’d like to spend it with me?’
For a long moment Salim stood frozen like a statue and just when Nat was about to collapse under a wall of humiliation at her naivety, thinking a one-night stand was something more profound when she should know better, Salim broke out of his trance and came over to her.
His face was stark, eyes black. He put his hands on her shoulders and said faintly, ‘You’re still here.’
A very fragile unfurling of hope and joy made Nat’s voice shaky. ‘Yes, I’m still here.’
‘Last night wasn’t a dream.’
She shook her head. That treacherous joy taking root, spreading outwards. ‘No,’ she whispered. She put her hands on Salim’s waist. ‘It was real. As real as we are now.’
Something seemed to relax in Salim’s body as his hands moved to cup her face, fingers tangling in her hair, lifting her jaw up, angling her towards him.
He smiled and Nat’s heart split open.
‘I would like nothing more than to spend the whole day with you, Nat Jordan.’
Nat tried to hang onto some sense of reality. ‘But your meeting with your friend…Antonio.’
‘Not important. Not today.’
He pressed a kiss to her mouth and Nat drowned. When he pulled back she felt tears prick her eyes and furiously tried to blink them away. Her voice hoarse with repressed emotions she said, ‘But I live in New York…’ She huffed out a shaky laugh, ‘I don’t even know where you live?’
Salim looked serious as his thumbs rubbed back and forth across her cheeks. ‘Paris. But that’s just geography. Let’s start with today, because all I know is that right now I live here, with you, and I don’t want to be anywhere else.’
Nat wound her arms around his neck and pressed close again. She smiled up into those dark eyes which she could see now were flecked with tiny pieces of grey. Not totally black then.
‘Take me home, Salim.’
And he did.
* * * * *
Joss